Poetry
I have a large red folder marked “Poetry.” In this folder there are approximately two hundred different poems varying from crappy to relatively readable. I don’t write poetry that often as I find making up worlds and sticking them down on paper is preferable. It helps me to escape better. But poetry is better for summing things up. Over ninety per cent of them are to do with relationships, longing, lust, love. Most of them are miserable.
There’s a guy. He’s… sweet. I met him back in September, but at the time I wasn’t interested. As usual I was chasing after someone who was bad for me and generally turned into a disaster. I didn’t even start to get to know him until I was with Dave, another disaster. Now I’m changing my mind. But I’m also incredibly confused. I’ve never even considered him as potential boyfriend material simply because he’s nice, and nice isn’t exactly what I go for. It is in fact, the complete opposite. But I’ve got to the point where I’ve realised that I can’t complain about being treated like shit when I deliberately go out looking for men who are going to treat me badly. I’ve got to change the men I go after.
But he’s too nice. Waaaaaaay too nice. And I couldn’t just have a fling with him. I don’t think I’m ready for anything more than a fling. I hate looking through that big red folder and getting flash backs. I hate being tied to one man when what I really want to do is act completely scandalously. But I prefer to have certain things on tap, and I miss the companionship.
I’m being horrifically selfish. If I didn’t think that I could leave it for a few weeks and still come back to him then I wouldn’t be taking so much time deciding. I’d have already made a final decision: yes or no. I guess what puts me off is that I’d have to chase him. Generally I like to be chased to a certain extent. But again, look at the men that I’ve been with before. They chased me, but in the end…
I’m thinking things through too much when what I should really be doing is just seeing what happens. I’m breaking all of my own rules by agonising over this, and I’m not really acting anything like myself. But the poems have worried me. I’ve put everything into them; every stupid piece of imagery. Every bloody sentence shows how hurt I’ve been, how much in love, how fucking stupid. I don’t know if I can do that all over again. This time it isn’t the rejection I’m scared of. It’s the fact that if I let him in then I’m giving him permission to hurt me. Permission to cause me the same pain all over again. And I just don’t know if I want to give anyone permission to do that ever again.
There’s a guy. He’s… sweet. I met him back in September, but at the time I wasn’t interested. As usual I was chasing after someone who was bad for me and generally turned into a disaster. I didn’t even start to get to know him until I was with Dave, another disaster. Now I’m changing my mind. But I’m also incredibly confused. I’ve never even considered him as potential boyfriend material simply because he’s nice, and nice isn’t exactly what I go for. It is in fact, the complete opposite. But I’ve got to the point where I’ve realised that I can’t complain about being treated like shit when I deliberately go out looking for men who are going to treat me badly. I’ve got to change the men I go after.
But he’s too nice. Waaaaaaay too nice. And I couldn’t just have a fling with him. I don’t think I’m ready for anything more than a fling. I hate looking through that big red folder and getting flash backs. I hate being tied to one man when what I really want to do is act completely scandalously. But I prefer to have certain things on tap, and I miss the companionship.
I’m being horrifically selfish. If I didn’t think that I could leave it for a few weeks and still come back to him then I wouldn’t be taking so much time deciding. I’d have already made a final decision: yes or no. I guess what puts me off is that I’d have to chase him. Generally I like to be chased to a certain extent. But again, look at the men that I’ve been with before. They chased me, but in the end…
I’m thinking things through too much when what I should really be doing is just seeing what happens. I’m breaking all of my own rules by agonising over this, and I’m not really acting anything like myself. But the poems have worried me. I’ve put everything into them; every stupid piece of imagery. Every bloody sentence shows how hurt I’ve been, how much in love, how fucking stupid. I don’t know if I can do that all over again. This time it isn’t the rejection I’m scared of. It’s the fact that if I let him in then I’m giving him permission to hurt me. Permission to cause me the same pain all over again. And I just don’t know if I want to give anyone permission to do that ever again.
